Three days ago we celebrated our nation’s 235th Independence Day.July 4th, a day of fireworks and picnics, a day or rest from our paid labor, and a day to recognize and remember the sacrifices of real people over 200 years ago that we might be free.
We are all blessed and very privileged to have been born in this great nation.We must never forget that our freedom and the liberty we enjoy were hard-won; they are not guaranteed and not to be taken for granted.The Founding Fathers (an amazing group of men, check them out if you never have) made it clear in their documents that our independence can remain secure only as long as We the People have a firm conviction that our liberties are a gift of God.
Did you know:
The Declaration of Independence is a one-time, one of a kind document?
The idea of a government getting its power from the consent of the governed, who are individuals with God-given not government-given rights, was new?
The Declaration states 4 clear references to our Creator God
The signers ranged in age from 27 to 70 years.They were businessmen, farmers, doctors, lawyers and preachers.Most were Protestant Christians, some with college degrees, some with military service.
Many of the signers had their homes and property destroyed because they declared their freedom.
Next time you are tempted to complain about that bad day at work or whine about how everything is going wrong lately, consider what it would feel like to come home to nothing – all burned to the ground viciously simply because you said you wanted to be free.I’m going to try to live a little more sacrificially in light of those great patriarchs.Not financially or water rationing for the yard – we are all doing that these days.But in time, giving more thought to how we got here and what I can do to stop the erosion of our freedoms by those who would make us dependent on government rather than its head.Putting my money where my mouth is.Writing articles as a citizen journalist.It’s not even a sacrifice compared to what those guys did.But it’s what I can do.
Lily spent last weekend with us.She’s 2 years old and a delightful child – easy going, extremely well-mannered, has a sweet loving spirit and is a great conversationalist.She is the grandchild of my husband’s only daughter which makes her even more special.
We had a delightful Saturday.After picking up Miss Lil right after breakfast we headed over to Target to check out the children’s clothes and shoes.We found some cute outfits and just the right pair of close-toed rubber soled shoes for our morning outing at ZilkerPark.Such fun to take her on the Zilker Zephyr and ride the train through the park, looking down at the canoeists and dogs on Town Lake and enjoying the park musician who played guitar and harmonica at the same time, hat cocked sideways over his smiling face.I had wanted to feed the ducks, who used to always hang out by the canoes, but there were so many dogs I think they were in hiding.Lily was just as happy tossing our pieces of bread to the birds – the doves and pigeons became her new best friends.As they flocked around her on the ground she told Grandpa, “Look, they’re chewing the bread!”And she proudly announced there were so many there were “five birdies”!
Playing on the playground brought back memories of doing that with my children.It’s wonderful to bring out a mental photo album any time you want and enjoy special times from the past while living similar times.Only now I don’t have the time constraints of a young mother and I have Grandpa to help me carry and watch for danger.Sweet.
Leaving Zilker, it was on to Sandy’s for some good old fashioned burgers.They didn’t have a kid size burger so we got Lily a corn dog.She wasn’t sure what to do with it, but as soon as I showed her how to hold the stick, dip the dog in catsup and take a bite, she was all over it.Sans breading though -she wanted to get right to the meat of the matter.
After nap we decided to beat the heat by playing in the kiddie pool on the back porch.It got pretty crowded with Lily and Grandpa when Duke had to get in on the water play fun.But had no problem with that.A few plastic measuring cups, spoon and a funnel, keep the water hose running and you’ve got hours of 2 yr old entertainment.You don’t have to have a fancy pool or custom playscape in your backyard to have fun with kids, sometimes people forget that.What they want is you and your undivided attention; toys and things are a distant second on their list.Well, time, love and undivided attention are just what Grandpa and Grandma have.What a great day.
But wait, there’s more.At bedtime Lily likes Grandpa to read her a story while I get the pack n play set up (I can face one again, it’s been a month since The Rollaway Cart) and straighten up the grandkids room.She chose several books for him, but the one that had me rolling on the floor was The Tale of Peter Rabbit. Normally this is not a very funny story, but the way Grandpa read it that night was … vintage Grandpa.
Grandpa’s rendition of The Tale of Peter Rabbit, Beatrix Potter’s classic story, was not exactly Uncle Remus style.It was more of a country, on-the-verge-of-redneck version – a twist only he could pull off.Here is what I recall of his tale – I can’t remember it word for word because I ended up laughing so hard it was difficult to concentrate.I don’t hear so well with laugh tears rolling down my cheeks.
As his story begins, Peter and his friends decide they want a new corvette.On the way to the car house [car house?Really?] they stop to eat some cabbage.They all get gas, and one of the rabbits gets some thing called the “squirts”.They continue their journey and make comments to each other about how bad they smell, with a lot of boy noises accompanying that dialogue.I don’t know how to type those sounds, just use your imagination.On the way they stop at Grandpa’s house to visit “old Duke” and get some barbeque, apparently the perfect food for little rabbits suffering from gas.They ate the barbeque and it was so good they never left and they all lived at Grandpa’s house with old Duke happily ever after.
Lily was riveted.Seriously.I couldn’t believe it, she never took her eyes off the pages as he turned them.She listened carefully as he read enthusiastically, with great style and fun voice inflections and only brief pauses to think of what to say next.Hey, this is the child who announced at supper that “Grandpa is a yummy, yummy cooker” and kept repeating “Thank you for this wonderful supper”.Of course she’s going to love his new version of Peter Rabbit.
Trouble is I’ll probably never be able to read her the real story; she’ll think I’ve got it wrong……
It is hard to describe how much I love my family.It’s a healthy love, not clannish or obligatory in any way; rather it is a connection so deep as to be unfathomable, and our desire to have gatherings regularly and spend time together has been there as long as I can remember.
My mom has often commented that we are fortunate to have what we have in our family, this bond that so many people do not have.The longer I’m alive the more I agree with her.As my sister said when we parted at our recent family reunion, how very blessed we all are!We want to keep up with what is going on in each other’s lives.We love our inside jokes and all the laughs that happen at our gatherings, we weep when one has a sorrow, we rejoice when there is an accomplishment or new grandchild, and we pray when there are concerns for we know that God is in control and He hears our prayers.
As the self-appointed family scribe for our annual reunions, I can testify to the endless supply of quick witticisms that dart between us.It’s so much fun, and usually so funny, that it is hard to keep up sometimes and hard to enjoy the last comment because the repartee is constant.
Like all families we are a blend of our past, present and future.Our ancestors on my mother’s side have been Texans for many generations, and as I like to say the blood and independent spirit of Texicans and American revolutionaries runs in our veins.There are professionals, college graduates, those established in their chosen trade or field, teachers, project managers, stay-at-home mothers, administrative workers, bankers, fireman, financial decision makers, pilots, those who have traveled abroad for work and for pleasure, business owners, purchasing and warehousing, high-tech managers, HR managers – and that’s just in my immediate family of parents, siblings and our children.As I write it I marvel again at the diverse paths our individual lives have taken yet the path we all return to is the one that starts with the umbilical cord.With the passage of time some of us have married, divorced, been widowed or remain single, and while our group is blessed with the spouses we have added our unity transcends marital status.
My heart is filled with gratitude that once again we were able and willing to gather for visiting and eating and swimming and boating and matching shirts and watching after the little ones, and we have all returned safely home to resume our daily lives.None of us knows what this coming year will bring, but we all know that, God willing, we will all be together again this time next year. And we look forward to it.
Recently my daughter and family moved into their first house.With the packing, moving, working, closing, Grandpa and I came to town for a few days to keep the girls. We arrived on Monday.We chose a nearby hotel with a suite so we could have kitchen, living room and a bedroom to put Molly down in a quiet place.It also served a hot breakfast & dinner, which was perfect for us with a 4 yr old and 1 yr old.
We checked in first to unload our baggage before picking up the girls and all the things that accompany little ones of that age group.When we picked them up, the trunk of the car quickly refilled with suitcases, pack-n-play, favorite dolls and stuffed animals, diaper bag, and blankets that are a must at nighttime.At the hotel, Emily became our official elevator button pusher:3 for the floor to our room, 1 for the floor at mealtime and to get to the pool.There were lots of mini-adventures during the first 24 hours – Molly’s haz-mat diaper, going to breakfast with wrong way Mouse and wrong way Molly, and Grandpa taking Emily swimming – before Grandpa had to leave to get back to work.Dropping him off at the airport, I noticed both the girls were napping.It would be my last moments of quiet since I’d be keeping them by myself on our last hotel night.Back at the room we had a fun bubble-splash bath and we all slept soundly that night.
My plan was to check out the next morning and take them to their new home to get settled.That morning Emily & I read her favorite Bible stories, built pillow houses for Mouse and Rudolph while Molly busied herself trying to open every door, cabinet, and window without success.I began to corral our things for packing onto a bellman’s cart while they played.We had suitcase, pack-n-play, diaper bag, pillows, toys, gift bags – some ransacked & some saved for opening at the new house – and groceries.I loaded and re-loaded until everything was arranged and all I had left was the pack-n-play.Molly had a fresh diaper and a full bottle, Emily was busy helping “ride herd” on this 13 month toddler whom Grandpa had dubbed Wrong Way Molly.Every time you put her down she toddled off in exactly the wrong direction!Wrong Way Molly also has a thing for hiding her bottle – she has a knack for throwing it into drawers, corners, couch cushions – anywhere it will be difficult to find.
The girls followed me into the bedroom where I proceeded to collapse the pack-n-play.I have one at home and they are SO convenient, easy to put up and take down.At least mine is.This one was a bear.I re-read the directions and tried again, succeeding only in getting it halfway folded.It was getting close to check out time, the girls were getting hungry and I was getting quite frustrated.After a few minutes, Emily piped up:“Grandma, do you know what my mommy does when she’s frust-erated?”“No, Emily, tell me.”“She just tries and tries 100 times until she gets it.That’s what you have to do.”Indeed.I thanked her, calmed down and tried again.But time won out, and I ended up cramming the ¾ folded contraption unbagged on top of the luggage on our cart.It would have to do.
The next challenge was how to safely maneuver the loaded cart and Wrong Way Molly out the door, into the elevator, down to the ground floor and out to the car with only a 4 yr old to help me.But then, Emily is no average 4 yr old – she stepped up into a leadership role.While she held the heavy room door open, I held Molly firmly on one hip and with my free hand guided the cart out into the hallway, pocketing a room key at the last minute just in case I’d missed something.Emily was our line leader, steering the cart and singing the whole way as I pushed from behind.She pushed the elevator button, and when it opened I told her to wait in the hallway until I could position the cart inside the cab.She did, but it took me a long time to get the cart in.As I was just about to tell her to step in, the doors closed, leaving a stranded Emily in the hallway with her Grandma & sister inside the elevator!Thankfully I found the “open” button quickly.The doors opened and I could see on Emily’s face it was almost panic time.She ran in and got right by my side – that was too close a call.The thought of her left alone up there if I hadn’t been able to stop the elevator in time unnerved me.I clasped her hand tightly and when we arrived at the ground floor we managed to get the cart and us out all together.
Feeling relieved, we started down the hallway.Molly began to fuss and I reached for her bottle.It was not in her hand or the diaper bag.Yikes!! THAT was one item we had to have and quickly.Emily and I looked up and down the hallway but no bottle in sight.Slowly I realized she must have dropped it on the way or thrown it somewhere in the room.
Talk about a dilemma.I wasn’t about to make that trip up to the room again with the kids and cart, and I certainly wasn’t about to leave Emily with our cart to go look for the bottle.There was only 1 option.I said a prayer of protection for the cart, took Emily’s hand and said, “Let’s go find Molly’s bottle.”Emily was concerned about our things and what if they were gone when we got back.So was I, but we agreed God would have to take care of it.
Back down the hall, push the elevator button, back to the 3rd floor, down the hall to Room 327.Thank you God for the room key in my pocket!We entered the room and began the search.After a frantic few minutes I spotted the bottle down in an empty brown shopping bag right where Molly had thrown it, probably while I was wrestling the pack-n-play, too busy to notice.
One final look around and then we were off – this time with bottle clutched in Molly’s hand.Down the hall, into the elevator, push the buttons, spilled out onto the 1st floor and down that hall.Was the cart sill there?YES!Thank you God!As we started pushing an angel disguised as a building maintenance man rounded the corner and offered to help.We gladly accepted, and in moments we were safely outside.We thanked Mr. Martinez and I assessed the situation.My car was 4 spaces over from the ramp we’d have to use.It was almost on a hot June day and I was sweating already.I decided to have Emily stand by the cart at the sidewalk’s edge, and more importantly in the shade.I instructed her not to move, to stay by the cart and watch me as I deposited Molly in the car and moved it closer so we could load it.She assured me she wouldn’t move and I knew I could keep my eye on her.I left her holding a gift bag with brightly colored tissue stretching up out of the top.
I unlocked the car and started the AC.Then around to the back to secure Molly in her car seat.Back in the driver seat I adjusted the air vents and pressed “max”.With the car in reverse I turned to look over my right shoulder before backing out and did a double take as I saw our cart, packed to the gills, speeding across the parking lot by itself!Holy Hawks!!Where was Emily?What if she ran after it??
I rammed the gearshift into park, flung the door open and heard, “Grandma, Grandma!”I ran over to Emily, standing exactly where I’d left her, bag in hand, a totally bewildered expression on her face.“Emily, are you OK?Good girl for NOT running into the parking lot.What happened?”“Well, I was going to hang the bag on a hook on the cart but I never got to because the cart just rolled away!”Looking to the direction she was pointing, I saw our Rollaway Cart.Yes, that was definitely ours:3 suitcases, pillows, a Cinderella sleeping bag, Bear & Mouse hanging on for dear life, bag of groceries, laptop bag, diaper bag, gift bags, & cpap bags hanging from hooks on the side topped off with Grandpa’s wet swim trunks spread over the top bars to dry.Totally a Beverly Hillbillies look.I looked back at Emily, waiting expectantly to see how I would react.She didn’t know if she should be scared, worried, laugh or prepare for rebuke.All of a sudden, I was done.Toast.The scare of Emily almost stranded alone on the 3rd floor, anxiety over leaving the cart unattended, frantic search for Molly’s bottle, wrestling with the #$&(^$#)@ pack-n-play, and now the Rollaway Cart, stopped by a curb, openly displaying the guts of our hotel stay for all to see, but amazingly intact.I just lost it.I started to laugh.And I kept laughing, big belly laughs, hysterical double-you-over laughter that caused laugh-tears to roll down my cheeks.Emily started to laugh too.
So there we were.Laughing uncontrollably in a Hyatt hotel parking lot at high noon on a hot summer day with my baby granddaughter unattended in my car running with the AC full blast and door wide open, halfway backed out of the parking space, and our rollaway bellman cart illegally parked catty-wampus next to a curb in the middle of the hotel parking lot.
It was probably only a minute, but it seemed like forever before I could start to stop laughing.Actually, Emily and I are still laughing about the Rollaway Cart, but that day we were able to get it under control enough to pack the car and drive to their new house where Mom & Dad awaited their girls.Still chuckling, I gathered myself and got us back on track.Telling Emily to use the sidewalk to go to the car to check on Molly, I headed over to the Rollaway Cart and hauled it back to where Emily was faithfully waiting.Molly was happily drinking her milk, unaware of our hair-raising adventures.As I strapped Emily in we looked at each other and started laughing again.The entire rest of the day it went like that.We’d be going about our business and exchange a glance and start laughing all over again.At supper Emily said, “I’m still laughing about the Rollaway Cart!” so we told the story again to Mom and Dad.Weeks later, she came to visit me at work and as we lunched with co-workers she would say to each new person who entered the room, “Let me tell you about the Rollaway Cart……”
What is it about the beach and the sight of the endless ocean that has such an effect on me?The feel of soft dry sand under my feet or the cool wet sand as I stand amid the waves in their rhythmic quiet crashing all around me, their soothing sound washing over me.The contrast of the blues of the water with the lighter blue of the sky, and the wind blowing refreshingly over my skin.The warmth of the sun, the lack of a clock anywhere, the absolute freedom to just be.The specialness of a gorgeous new swimsuit (with the certainty that pictures of me in it will never, ever make it to Facebook).
We spent the last day of our trip at the beach.All of it.Paul convinced me that we could drive the Nissan on the beach, even though it was practically as low to the ground as a snake and is front wheel drive, and he was right.As long as you drive close to the water where the sand is packed you can go for miles.Of course, at times that presents a bit of an issue when other cars or people are parked right in your path.That happened to us one night earlier, and in our effort to go around we got stuck.Fortunately the beach was more populated that evening and within 30 seconds a couple of guys in an old beat up pickup stopped, handed us a shovel, and I got to drive on the beach – sort of – while my husband dug the car out.One of those experiences I don’t mind saying I had now that it is behind me, and a welcome reminder of how good it is to help strangers.
For this beach trip we drove to the last access point before the roads were completely blocked with sand dunes.We paid, were handed a plastic trash bag and told if we picked up some trash and brought it back upon exit we’d get half the fee returned.Cool, I’m an unlitterbug at heart, plus that would give Paul something to jack with as I sat relaxing.
I did do some sitting and relaxing, especially later in the day as the sun became more intense.But I found myself absolutely drawn to the hidden treasure of sea shells just waiting to be discovered.There were literally miles of them – the recent storms had washed up thousands on the shore.I have always loved sea shells, and each time I go to the beach I try to collect a few special ones.This trip I packed an entire 6-pack size cooler with them.I found tiny delicate ones, unbroken and perfectly formed with a small hole just the right size for stringing onto a necklace for a granddaughter.We found several large, grapefruit size shells, unbroken yet pitted by sand and water.There were a few unique shaped ones with colors that shone when you placed them under the water.Some were smooth, some had ridges.So many shades of blues, warm browns, tan and sand colors, bright white and a few in the pink family.I searched for hours, marveling at the selection and hoping to find that perfect conch.It is unusual to find one of those unbroken; I’ve only found one like that before, and this time all I saw were pieces that told me a few had been here, likely broken in the transfer from the deep to the surface.
Lunch was Leftovers with a Twist.Paul is especially good at this.Who knew you could take delicious fresh, caught-yesterday-and-prepared-by-a-gourmet chef trout with a side of garlic-creamed spinach and rice and use it as a dip for chips, Melba toast or rice cakes?And if you are my husband you top it with homemade queso, place some lettuce leaves on your plate for salad, a side of cheese and crackers, and voila, a fancy feast beachside.Delightful.
That was one of the most relaxing days I’ve had in years.Good mix of conversation and silence against the backdrop of that beautiful scene and pleasant sounds that only God’s nature can make.Time to beach comb, liein the sun, rest in the shade, walk in the water, and reflect on the blessings God has poured out on me.In other decades I’ve had my share of tumultuous times; the thought of them enables me to fully savor the sweetness of times like these.Yes, we made some memories this trip, one that will always rank among “the best ever.”
My husband made it very clear when we first decided to go to S. Padre for this year’s anniversary trip that he wanted to go fishing – hopefully a day trip but minimum ½ day.That was fine with me, but then he said he wanted me to go with him.Fishing.On our anniversary.I love fish, but only eating it – I’m a city girl, not interested in trying to bait a hook or cast a line or heaven forbid clean it.But I felt it was the least I could do, go on a fishing trip with him if it would make him that happy.Especially since many of the things were doing were things I wanted to do.We agreed on ½ a day trip with a guide, and he would make all the arrangements.
On Day 3 he found the captain he wanted, finalized the trip and returned to the condo excitedly telling me all about Captain Cliff and how great it was going to be and how we got a great morning time slot and all we had to do was be there at 7:00 a.m.The Capt. would teach me everything I needed to know about how to fish.I’m not exactly a morning person but a promise is a promise.I dutifully set the alarm (one time during this vacation wouldn’t kill me) and the coffeepot for 6 the next morning.
It wasn’t the same as waking up naturally but it was doable.Plus there was less than zero need to fix hair or do makeup.We packed our cooler of water and snacks and arrived at the dock promptly at 7.Capt Cliff was there waiting for us, leaning against the door frame, no doubt sizing up ‘the wife’, remembering what he had been told about my complete lack of knowledge of all things fish and wondering what he had signed up for.
We walked out to the boat.I don’t know what I was expected but it wasn’t very big, or at least it didn’t seem that way to me.But once we went aboard, found our seats and settled in for the ride way out into the bay it was quite nice.The weather was perfect – cloudy, cool but not too windy and only a few other fishermen were out.Capt. Cliff is a very nice man with a calm voice, even temperament, decades of experience and plenty of patience.As I would discover, he also had the heart of a teacher which made all the difference for me.
He stopped the boat at the first spot and climbed down from his seat to show me the ropes.Capt. Cliff has four rules for fishing:1) grip the rod securely with the reel stem between middle and ring finger, 2) position the line correctly, 3) open the bail, 4) always have both hands on the rod.I’m a rules and regulations kind of a gal, so I figured I could do this.I learned that there are actually techniques to fishing – things like stance, when to release the line, how to set the hook, how to free your hook from grass, and how to land both small and big fish.
As the morning progressed, I realized I was enjoying myself!My dad and brothers would never believe Paul got me to go fishing.I actually caught 3 fish, one of them a pretty decent size.Got my picture taken with the Capt. and The Fish – and the brothers who would definitely want to see proof.Capt. Cliff has a great sense of humor, and when he saw I was practicing what he taught he began to give me other ‘tips and tricks’ too.How to store your rod safely with the hook in just the right place while the boat was in motion or you weren’t using it.How to untangle a line that got crossed with another fisherman’s line (I had to use this one several times) and when to set the hook so your fish doesn’t get away.I had to learn that the smaller fish got pulled into the boat on the hook but the bigger ones have to be brought in with a net.When the net is used, you have to make sure to keep the fish under the water but not too close to the boat and definitely don’t let the fish go under the boat.That I could do because it meant I was the boss of that fish – bossy I can do :)Heck, he even loaned me a pair of polarized sunglasses so I could distinguish the different colors of the water and which areas make a good fishing hole.
The time really went by quickly, although towards the end of our 5 hour journey I was starting to feel muscles I hadn’t used recently from the casting and reeling in.When the trip was over and we arrived back at the dock, we had caught our limit – 10 beautiful speckled trout ‘in the box’ (that’s the technical fisherman term for ones that are big enough to keep as opposed to all the smaller ones you catch but have to release).But here’s the cool part:they clean them for you!! And bag them up too.Now THAT’s the kind of fishing I can do. I won’t say I’m chomping at the bit to go right back out for another fishing journey.But I must admit that fishing really can be fun – who knew??
When we arrived last night, Paul went up first to open the front door and be ready to prepare me if necessary.As I slogged up the slippery steps, bags on each shoulder and hands full, he called out, “Honey, come in here, it’s really nice.”Hmmm, he didn’t sound like he was kidding, maybe we had lucked out with this place.
I dropped the bags on the porch and stepped inside.High ceilings, big rooms, perfectly selected Pottery Barn furniture, flat screen TV, completely equipped kitchen with lovely granite counter tops – and yes, a coffee maker with automatic timer.Separate living and eating areas, 2 baths, 2 bedrooms with comfy and pretty bedding in the master and closets stocked with beach accessories.Ah yes, the trip was shaping up quite nicely.THIS is my idea of a vacation.
We settled in then accessed email by phone looking for ‘Paul’s Survival Guide’ Becky had sent earlier, coming to the rescue with the only thing we managed to leave behind – all the intel about restaurants & recommendations.We chose Dirty Al’s for dinner on this arrival night; the shrimp and atmosphere did not disappoint :)
One of the best things about being on vacation is not waking up to the alarm clock.Day 2 dawned a bit hazy but with the promise of a gorgeous sunny day, and I slowly opened my eyes to the realization that I really was on vacation and I really didn’t have to go to work and I really could sleep as late as I wanted.I made it until – what can I say, it’s my natural wake up time and as long as I’m rested it works for me.
One of the best things about ANY morning is waking to the smell of freshly brewed coffee.Whoever invented the automatic timer on a coffee maker deserves a medal.After a leisurely cup we decided to make the one block walk to the beach and take a stroll, getting the lay of the land.As we walked across the sand to the peaceful sound of the ocean waves and the steady cool wind Paul quipped that he “loved long walks on the beach.”If he had a Facebook page I’d post that comment just to see the witty comebacks of his friends.
On our way back we spotted the Café on the Beach, a must on our list for breakfast.We sat at a table overlooking the water, savoring the eggs cooked to perfection, toast from a variety of breads, superb bacon, and just the right amount of fresh juicy fruit.I could feel myself starting to relax.
The one item I didn’t own to pack for the beach was The Right Hat.The Right Hat is very important:it must be a perfect fit with elastic to hold it securely against the wind; not too wide or floppy a brim or you’ll sail away in these winds like the flying nun; able to be folded without losing it’s shape; and of course pretty and stylish.To my delight Paul was quite happy to take me shopping for one, and as soon as we found it we planned to head to the beach for the afternoon.There aren’t that many shops on the island, but we hit almost every one.I found The Right Hat at Renee’s, the first store we went to, but was hoping to find a less expensive version elsewhere.I found gorgeous sundresses, fabulous swimsuits and sandals to die for, but no other hats like that one.When the shopping excursion ended, I sat happily in the car patting my big shopping bag with a new pair of sandals, a new swimsuit, new sundress, and The Right Hat.Paul’s wallet was much lighter and I was feeling extremely spoiled – just the way I like it :)
Our afternoon at the beach was so relaxing, and a reminder that married couples need to take time out just to be with each other and do things together for fun, strengthening the marital commitment in the process.Plus I got some good sun, which I really wanted to do.The people watching can’t be beat – we watched as one couple took turns burying each other in the sand, creating designs on top of the burial mound and taking pictures.The kicker was that the first one to be buried was the girl, who had apparently fallen fast asleep on the beach.We couldn’t figure out why she was so quiet and the guy kept smiling widely and laughing to himself as he arranged the sand on top of her.When his masterpiece was done he took a picture with his cell phone, partially dug her right arm out of the sand and yanked on it to wake her up, then raced out into the water.She was buried in up to her neck and it took her several minutes to dig herself out.When she did, she too raced into the water but with a different motive than his.Let’s just say that when they came back to their chairs on the sand, he submitted to her burying him in the sand, with his help, and she took her time to get him completely covered with an elaborate picture carved in the sand before she slowly got the camera, took several pictures and satisfied, smiled and sat down.To her credit, she did end up helping him to dig out, and he needed it.
Dinner at Gabriellas.Oh my, how can I describe it.A lovely old world style Italian place with the most attentive (but not too) wait staff you could wish for and food that is just out of this world.Paul had a seafood pasta dish, and I had fish with a delectable jalapeno-butter-oil-garlic sauce served on a light bed of spaghetti.A slice of Italian wedding cake to celebrate our anniversary completed the heavenly meal.Perfect end to a perfect day.
